


Squirrel Food

by justadreamfox, likearecord



Series: Not a Fucking Squirrel [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, fluffy tooth-rotting slice of life, justadreamfox and likearecord unsupervised, neil is still a squir- i mean sugar glider, the goldfish crackers that started it all, they're 25 and in grad school in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27462148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justadreamfox/pseuds/justadreamfox, https://archiveofourown.org/users/likearecord/pseuds/likearecord
Summary: Grad school and goldfish crackers and domestic bliss.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Series: Not a Fucking Squirrel [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006251
Comments: 47
Kudos: 375





	Squirrel Food

**Author's Note:**

> Did we mention these oneshots are not gonna be in chronological order?
> 
> Oops.
> 
> -xoxo  
> [likearecord](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likearecord/) and [justadreamfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justadreamfox/)

Andrew’s cheek gave up its desperate battle to hold onto his palm, and his head rolled forward almost hitting the desk before he jerked awake, startling upright again. The girl next to him - Alice? - stifled a giggle and Andrew stifled his glare. 

His graduate classes and internship were exhausting enough when he got a good night’s sleep, but last night he’d stayed up way too late with Neil, arms and legs tangled as they marathoned their way through the first three Harry Potter movies, having to stop and rewind every time Neil’s hands and lips got too distracting. Andrew was determined to catch him up on the ten years of movies he’d missed while gliding through trees eating bugs and berries, hiding from his murderous dad and the mob squad, but the feral little menace didn’t make it easy. 

Andrew’s eyes tried to roll up into his head again and he straightened his spine, forcing his exhausted eyes into focus. Sure, Ethics in Social Work was an incredibly important topic, but this class was drier than toasted cardboard. The master’s in social work had been Neil’s idea; a way they could help the kids no one else cared about. On particularly difficult cases sugar glider Neil could sneak into the homes and get evidence to put the abusers away for life. It was a brilliant idea, a career they could work at together - but it left Andrew to trudge through the coursework alone while Neil snoozed in his hoodie, taking notes for Neil to read later when Andrew was asleep. 

Andrew had a suspicion that he’d ended up with the raw end of this deal.

Jerking awake must have woken someone up because a tiny chirp piped up in surround sound from behind him. Andrew cleared his throat. Another chirp, closer to his ear. The professor threw eyes at him and Alice (maybe?) was staring at the hood of his sweatshirt with a small frown. Shit. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes left in this class. Whatever, he already had the chapter memorized. Andrew shoved his notebook into his bag, and walked out of the class without looking back before a third chirp halted the whole damned lecture. 

As soon as he was through the classroom door he felt the faint wiggling in his hood. “You little shit,” he murmured, reaching up to ostensibly rub the back of his head, letting his hand linger there as he walked. More wiggling and then little whiskers brushed his thumb followed by warmth and the press of silky fur as a precious weight squirmed under the cuff of his hoodie and settled into the sleeve, little tactile paws gripping around his wrist and a tail wrapping halfway around his forearm. 

He waited until Neil was settled before bringing his hand down and tucking him into his front pocket, where Andrew had stashed a small handful of parmesan Goldfish crackers. 

More wiggling, and then:  _ crunch crunch crunch.  _

A pause, then again:  _ crunch crunch crunch. _

The fourth set of quiet little crunches drifted out of his hoodie pocket just as Andrew reached the Maserati Neil had bought him last year - custom tinted windows and all, because really Andrew just didn’t need anyone to see him having serious conversations with a tiny weird squirrel. He slid into the driver’s seat carefully, closed the door, and waited. 

_ Crunch, crunch,  crunch.  _ Pause.  _ Crunch crunch  crunch.  _ Pause. More wiggling, then a tiny nose peeked out the edge of his hoodie, followed by agile little hands, and then surprisingly blue eyes and velvety ears. 

The sugar glider blinked at him, and then yawned dramatically, crawling all the way out of Andrew’s pocket and halfway up his chest, delicate wings spread wide against him. He had Goldfish crumbs on his whiskers. 

“You are an asshole. Some of us don’t get to sleep all day.” 

Neil shrugged, which looked odd on his squirrelly shoulders, and then yawned in his face again before crawling the rest of the way up Andrew’s shirt. He curled up against Andrew’s neck just inside the collar of his sweatshirt, making a little hammock out of a nook of fabric. A paw pressed against his neck, tiny claws digging in, and Andrew hummed in response and turned the car for home.

The sun was still lingering in the sky and Neil was fast asleep against Andrew’s neck when he pulled into their driveway. It’d be a few hours before Neil was ready to really be awake. They’d tried once or twice to flip Neil’s schedule, but something in his DNA balked at their attempts to turn him diurnal. 

Truth be told, Andrew didn’t hate it - particularly in moments like these; Neil passed out cold on his neck, quiet snores like rhumbly barks sneaking out every minute or two. Andrew told him once that he snored and Neil had frowned and shook his head. 

“Sugar gliders don’t snore,” he had insisted. 

“Sugar gliders also don’t have blue eyes and auburn fur,” Andrew had said. 

“Harumph,” Neil had harumphed. 

They’d googled it, and apparently sugar gliders really don’t snore. So Andrew had recorded Neil that day and played it back for him when he woke up, causing Neil to snap back to squirrel and flop on his chest, playing possum and obnoxiously fake-snoring for half an hour until he actually, accidentally fell asleep, and began softly snoring in earnest against Andrew’s heart. 

Those snores were one of Andrew’s top five favorite sounds. 

Andrew was quiet and careful as he let himself into the house, kicked off his shoes, and settled into the couch to start his reading for next week’s classes. It was Friday - he had time - but Andrew had learned long ago that it was best to make use of the hours when he was awake and Neil was asleep to get his work done. He’d barely made it through one chapter when there was movement against his neck, a quiet little squeaky yawn. His furball hopped to the couch next to him, blinked once, and then Neil the man was sitting next to Andrew with a sleepy grin smeared on his face. 

“Naked,” Andrew huffed drily. 

“Pancakes?” Neil said.

“Goldfish not enough for you?”

“That was an appetizer,” Neil said seriously.

“Blueberry?” Andrew asked, resigned. He hated fruit in his pancakes. Neil loved it. And Andrew loved Neil. 

Neil’s answering smile was a bit blinding. He leaned in, and Andrew kissed him, breathing in the scent of Neil - moonlight and fresh grass and warm summer breezes - before Neil vaulted over the back of the couch and took the stairs two at a time. The shower cut on and Andrew headed for the kitchen to start the pancake batter. 

A clean and damp human Neil reappeared just as Andrew was plating up the pancakes. He came up behind Andrew, wrapped his arms around him and tucked his hands in Andrew's hoodie pocket. 

“Missing your nest?”

Neil fished out a rogue Goldfish cracker and popped it in his mouth. 

“Gross,” Andrew said. 

Neil hummed against his neck and Andrew shivered. 

“Cheating,” Andrew sighed, but he tilted his head, giving Neil better access. Neil nipped him, then kissed the same spot carefully before moving to kiss along his jaw, and Andrew twisted in his arms. “Thought you wanted pancakes,” he murmured against Neil’s lips before kissing him properly. He was warm and soft and wearing one of Andrew’s hoodies and this would never, ever, get old. 

They settled at the kitchen table across from each other. Neil slung a socked foot up in Andrew’s lap, and Andrew started slowly picking the blueberries out of his pancakes and putting them on Neil’s plate. 

“You could just make two batters - one without blueberries,” Neil said around a mouthful of pancake. It wasn’t the first time he’d made that suggestion. 

“I could, but then I wouldn’t have anything to throw at you,” Andrew said as he launched a blueberry at Neil. Neil caught it in his mouth and grinned. 

“Sugar glider,” he said smugly.

“Squirrel,” Andrew said. 

“Fuck you,” Neil said pleasantly, throwing a blueberry at Andrew. Andrew didn’t move, and the berry bounced off his cheek. 

“Not a sugar glider,” Andrew quipped. 

“Everyone can’t be perfect,” Neil said with a shrug, and he caught the blueberry Andrew launched at him with a laugh. “It’s the weekend,” Neil said after he’d eaten all of his pancakes and most of Andrew’s blueberries. 

“Yes, it is the weekend,” Andrew agreed. 

“Do we have to go anywhere?” Neil asked. Sometimes they clocked internship hours on the weekends - the hours no one else wanted, because most people had family and friends, vacations and parties and commitments. Neil and Andrew just had each other, and Neil could go anywhere Andrew went. 

“Nope,” Andrew said. 

Neil grinned, and plopped his other foot in Andrew’s lap. “So, the rest of Harry Potter then?” 

Andrew wasn’t going to last five minutes of a movie before falling asleep, but he nodded anyway, dumping Neil’s feet out of his lap and standing up. “Upstairs,” he said. 

“You’re going to fall asleep if we watch upstairs,” Neil said. 

“Yep,” Andrew agreed, with a yawn.

“I bet I could keep you awake,” Neil said with a smirk. 

Andrew glared at him before turning to walk away. Footsteps shuffled after him, and just as he reached the stairs Neil’s fingers tangled in the back of his hoodie and Andrew stifled a smile. 

  
  



End file.
